Bridal shower body snatchers

Yes, it took several glasses of wine for this to happen

Disco goodbyes

I am now officially 30. I went out with the girls Saturday night and it was the big kiss-off to a previous life - my Roaring Twenties. Upon the completion of the night, I had a big epiphany:

I can't hack it anymore. I can't hack the velvet rope, the ass kissing, the God complexes, the VIP qualifier determined by a stamp on your hand, the glazed looks in everyone's eyes. I can't hack none of it. And I'm alright with it. I'm more than alright with it. Probably because I invested so much energy in the past to that lifestyle. Probably way more than I should have. Give me jeans and 80s music now and I'm a happy girl.

The cellular being of my 30-year-old self is oversaturated with memories of nights gone by. The debauchery and madness that constituted my social life since I was 17 years old. I've got a 13 year hangover.

Now, I think I need some sleep.

It's raining cats and dogs out there today. I think I may have even seen my dog in the middle of all that. Going to the subway, I prayed and prayed they didn't shut the 6 line down because the pumps couldn't handle the water. I felt so lucky when, not only I got on, but that I didn't have to let any trains pass by until I could fit in.

Nevertheless, the train was busy. Like anyone else there, I'm standing there with wet hair, my umbrella folded and damp raincoat, just thinking about getting to work relatively on time. Then I feel someone elbow me and I turn around to see this big Brunhilda giving me a dirty look.

"You're all wet and, like, your wetness is getting through my shirt." Her mouth kept twisting around as she said this.

Not just me but several others, who also looked like drowned rats, turned around to stare at her as we all clocked what she just had said.

Finally, I opened my mouth: "Why don't you do all of us a favor? Give Mother Nature a call and tell her to do something about it."

Yeah. I'm so badass.

Today's fashion statement

Today's fashion statement: sneakers.

Yesterday's terrorist threat to the NYC subways has everyone whipping out their running shoes this morning. Dress shoes for work are not an option, unless you carry them in a bag during the commute. Which, by the way, is another bag for the NYPD to check upon your entry into the system.

"What you got in your bag, ma'am?"
"Shoes, officer. The pair for when I'm not trying to outrun bombs."

People are now taking the threat as a very realistic one, but it's really more of an un-reality now. Who are we kidding? We were probably in more danger yesterday morning before they announced the threat, when your stiletto'ed foot got you around that now-suspicious baby stroller without a second thought. We fall asleep, only to be woken up again. Everyone's now walking around in the comfort of their flat-soled shoes this morning, strutting their stuff, having outwitted the baddies. "Damn, I'm smart. Yesterday, Jimmy Choo. Today, it's 'Hello, Tevas!' "

Given this hysteria, Jimmy and Manolo will be issuing slingbacks that can outrun and outlast any other frightened New Yorker trying to leave the city on foot. There would be a real market for that. Perish the thought, but should something happen, well...look at that Hillary Clinton go!

Shoes do not make you prepared. Flashlights do not make you prepared. Snaps go to the crazy people who lug the gas masks, flashlights, freeze-dried rations, Cipro and all other emergency gear on their backs from home to work and all that in-between. But a) that's why they're crazy, in that Ted Kuczynski kind of way and b) how many people do you know really do that?

Just accept it for what it is - this is our new world order and go on with your lives.

Remember the camels

In a book I was reading last night, there was a line said by one of the characters:

"Love is a celebration of all that's inconvenient and complicated."

How true.

Two years ago tonight, I met C. How crazy is that? Two whole years have gone by since I met him. We are each two years older than when we met. It doesn't feel like two years. I guess part of it because we have spent a lot of that time apart. Although we have spent a lot of time together for a long distance couple. It's a double edged sword in perspective, really.

Yes, it's been inconvenient and complicated and frustrating and lonely. I also know it's been immensely satisfying and loving and fulfilling. Reminding myself of that is what gets me through the tough parts, especially as I find it harder and harder to believe that there won't be an end to it.

I've gotten so used to living my life the way it is, and the idea of the wedding being one month away is positively surreal. Most of our friends and family keep looking at the wedding as the end all and be all of all our problems, but he and I know better. Until we've got something signed on all those dotted lines, the only faith we have the luxury of having is in each other.

And we've got a lot of that, a lot of love, a lot of hope. And C's got a lot of patience with my nuttiness and craziness about our separation - all the outbursts and the tears. A lot of patience, which should be an example to me.

But I can't wait for the new kinds of inconveniences and complications to begin, I'll take anything I can get. Happy anniversary babe.